"The Truth About Today..."

Despite what some may think, today is not national BBQ day...

A little later this morning, my youngest son and I will visit the cemetery to clean and decorate my parents' graves.  My father was proud to have served our nation in WWII.  And despite having to serve in a racially segregated Navy, where his many talents went unrecognized simply because he was a Black man, he never expressed anything except patriotism, hope and faith in our country.  After the war he would go on to be very active in the veteran community and even served as the commander of his VFW post in the 1950s. 

Although at home, he rarely spoke of his wartime experiences in the Pacific theatre and of the death and dying and cruelty and inhumanity he had witnessed, I am most proud of two of the "war stories" he first shared with me when I was just 16 years old, because they spoke to his core belief that there is a basic good in all people.... 

"Colored sailors in the Pacific theatre"

Late in the war, having survived numerous battles at sea as the Americans fought their way across the Pacific, my father was finally given shore duty and was was stationed on the Island of Guam for some months.  On Guam, he and his detail of fellow "colored sailors" were responsible for guarding a naval supply depot. The Japanese had been pushed off the island just weeks before, but some of their men had been left behind and were surviving in the jungles that surrounded the base.

He said each night as the sentries would walk their posts, gunfire would ring out as the abandoned Japanese tried to steal food that for the Americans was so plentiful that rations were stacked on pallets on the beach. My father told me that whenever he was in charge of the watch, he instructed his men not to shoot at the Japanese, but instead to "keep walking and just let off a shot or two in the air so the officers know we're on our posts." He told me that those were his instructions to the men, because he said, “No man should have to die because he’s hungry!”

He also told me of once leading a patrol through the perimeter jungle and coming on a group of armed Japanese. Guns were leveled and a standoff ensued. Although what the Japanese were saying was unintelligible to my father and the other men, the leader of the Japanese motioned to my father’s feet and looking at his foe, my father knew how to end the standoff. He instructed all his men to lower their weapons and take off their shoes as he did just that. The Japanese were barefooted and their feet were covered in bleeding sores. The jungle is no place to be without shoes.

My father told his men to step back from their shoes, but some protested… And it was then that my father said, “These men have no shoes and we have them by the God-damned crate load on the base, give them your shoes!” Everyone took two steps back and the Japanese ran forward, snatched up the shoes and backed away into the jungle brush from which they had appeared. My father and his men finished their patrol and marched back to base as barefooted as the Japanese had been, but no man from either side had perished. Not a shot rang out in anger, for my father realized that these were men swept up in the tides of war just as he was... there was no need to kill over shoes.  It was no doubt apparent to all including the desperate Japanese that our victory was all but assured and the following year it was achieved with the dropping of two atomic bombs on the Japanese home islands.

My father (center) on Guam, early 1945

And so, with this I am reminded as I enjoy the freedoms that we take for granted... Freedom is not free! It's been bought through the ages with blood and treasure and with the greatest of sacrifices.  Yes, I'll enjoy a cookout this evening, but I'll also pause to remember those including my father and uncles whose service and sacrifice made such common enjoyments possible for us all.

Thank You Dad!